Title
Music – Ron Grainer, Delia Derbyshire and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop

Special
Sound – Brian Hodgson and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop

Incidental
Music – Norman Kay

Make
Up – Jill Summers

Production
Assistant – David Conroy, Penny Joy

Studio
Sound – Jack Brummitt, Tony Milton

Studio
Lighting – Peter Murray

Story
Summary (SPOILERS!):

The TARDIS arrives on the planet Marinus, on a mysterious
island surrounded by an acid sea. At the heart of the island is a Temple that
houses the Conscience Machine, guarded by a lone figure called Arbitan, which
is used to artificially neutralise the negative emotions and motivations of the
planet’s population. However, a rebel cult, known as the Voords, led by Yartek
have broken through their conditioning and now attempt to invade the island,
hoping to re-program the machine to help them take over and dominate the whole
of Marinus. To prevent this, Arbitan and his people initially dispersed the
electronic keys the Conscience Machine needs to operate, across the planet,
hopefully giving them time to modify the machine so it can be effective once
more, before Yartek succeeded.

Now though, the situation has become ever more desperate
as Arbitan’s assistants have become lost or killed attempting to retrieve the
four remaining keys of the Conscience Machine. With the unexpected arrival of
the Doctor and his friends, Arbitan forces them to attempt to find the four
keys themselves before he allows them to leave again in the TARDIS.

With the aid of teleportation bracelets, the Doctor and
his companions visit different areas of the planet Marinus, searching for the
keys, and coming across many dangers, challenges and difficulties along the
way. From a society brainwashed into slavery to mutated brain creatures, to a
living forest of plants, to an area of ice caves guarded by frozen knights in
armour, the time travellers are never safe for long. Fortunately, they numbers
are strengthened by an associate of Arbitan’s, Altos, as well as Arbitan’s
daughter Sabetha, both originally lost trying to find the keys themselves.

After saving Ian from being falsely charged and executed
for the death of an official, the return back to the Temple to find Yartek in
control. To prevent the success of the Voords, Ian gives them a false
representation of one of the keys found earlier, which causes the Conscience
Machine to self-destruct. The Doctor and his companions escape the Temple in
the nick of time, and say their goodbyes to Sabetha and Altos before leaving in
the TARDIS for adventures new.

Story
Placement

Between The
Sorcerer’s Apprentice (Virgin Missing Adventure Novel) and The Aztecs (TV Serial)

Favourite Lines

The Doctor – “...and you, my friend...”

Ian – “Yes, what can I do
Doctor?”

The Doctor – “Trust me”.

The Doctor – “The important thing
is I believe I know who did the killing”.

Barbara – “But how? Tarron’s been
working on it all day, you’ve only been here five minutes”.

Review:

The Keys
of Marinus is a serial that both entertains and infuriates in equal
measure. Terry Nation returned back to Doctor
Who for the first time, just weeks after the gigantic success of his
Science-fiction epic adventure, The
Daleks, which created seismic cultural waves that continue to this day.
However, The Keys of Marinus also
represents the first real dip in quality of the TV production of Doctor Who since it began. On the
surface, the reasons for this are mostly accidental. Terry Nation had indeed
already been asked to write a second Doctor
Who serial, but was working hard on a historical adventure called The Red Fort. So when one of the other
proposed early Doctor Who serials
fell through, and was ultimately rejected, Terry Nation was asked to quickly write
a six part Sci-fi slanted serial to replace it as pre-production was due to
take place in days. The result was the scripts for The Keys of Marinus, rushed and mostly underdeveloped with little
time for important script editing by David Whitaker, and for a great deal of
the production it shows.

Despite the difficult circumstances of the story’s
origins though, Terry Nation wisely creates a simple quest format to the story,
splitting up the episodes into separate mini-adventures with their own
individual plots as the Time Travellers search for the titular ‘keys’ of the
main over-arching plotline. Doing this allows Nation the freedom to come up
with nearly anything he likes in most of the episodes, without worrying about
what he did the episode before, as well as importantly allowing him time to
come with a resolution to the main plot in the last episode. The “quest” format
also adds a continuing sense of adventure, following on from the epic voyage in
Marco Polo, as well as their recent
struggles with Daleks and Cavemen.

What Terry Nation does well is to create five unique
settings within his mini-adventures that are both alien and interesting, even
if most are far from convincing. The citadel within a large monument, on an
island with glass beaches, surrounded by an acid sea, has to be one of the most
vividly imaginative creations for a Doctor
Who story ever created, even if the events and characters that happen within
it, fail to echo that same imagination and skill. Then there’s the society of
Millenius, a city where fascinatingly the concept of law is reversed, so a
charged or accused person is ruled to be guilty until proven innocent. Terry
Nation clearly relished this idea, as his written execution of the last episodes
is significantly better than the three before it.

However, the big demand for six episodes in a short time
still takes its toll on Nation’s scriptwriting. I’m sure the ideas of a living
jungle, or frozen knights coming to life in a cavern of ice caves may have
seemed like great concepts for episodes three and four on paper, but ultimately
they are little more than set pieces which Terry Nation builds up to and fills
out the rest of the two episodes with padding and slow plot meandering. Episode
three features gimmick after comical theatrical gimmick, like the android
knight of armour with a robotically manoeuvred axe, or the moving statue, or
the jail trap, or the falling roof – all of which are there to waste time and
artificially contrive tension. Episode four in comparison splits up all of its
main characters, so much time is used up by them searching for one another. For
such a ‘difficult’ quest, the puzzles of the keys themselves are very simple,
but then on the upside, I suppose it makes the episodes very accessible to a
casual audience. For viewers hoping for more challenging and complex narratives
however, a fair amount of The Keys of
Marinus will feel non-eventful or slow.

In contrast, episode two is one of the better-executed of
the mini-adventures. The seemingly idyllic city of Morphoton hides a society
brainwashed into slavery. While it isn’t an original premise, the conceit of
the leisurely paradise and its rotten truth is very well handled and executed.
Rather than some gratuitous reveal, Terry Nation instead has the time
travellers taken in by their ‘perfect’ surroundings, and makes sure that one of
them fails the brainwashing process, so that we then can see the truth through
their perspective as they struggle to convince and work against their friends
in order to both survive and recover their senses. Brilliantly, it is loosely
crafted in the same manner of one of Grimm’s fairy tales, as the Time
Travellers are lured into the trap by sleight of hand and cunning illusion. The
choice of Barbara as the character who remains uncontrolled is also a perfect
one, as it gives a chance for the companion to shine, and maintain herself from
the shadow of the other regulars, particularly Ian, who the former
schoolteacher is frequently (albeit naturally) paired with considering their
older friendship. Another great element in the script is how it maintains and
demonstrates how powerful the brainwashing is of the TARDIS team, firstly by
them being taken in by false objects, and then even seeing the Doctor amusingly
being taken in by a non-existent laboratory. The great conceit though, hides
the fact that the motive and beings behind it are, in a daft and frankly corny
Sci-fi twist, the brains of humanoids that have become too big for their
bodies, and require slaves to survive (since all of the places are within
Marinus, and seem to all be humanoid, it’s a reasonable assumption that these
brains are humanoid too). This development, coupled with the brains’ gimmicky
appearance, complete with “eye-stalks”, has more than just a passing
resemblance to the goofy and dumb alien creatures thought up in bad 1950s
Sci-fi B movies, and unfortunately is a definite step backward from the
otherwise more up-to-date and developed storytelling displayed in the series up
to this point. However, given that the 1960s was still a big and popular period
for the retro sci-fi style comic, such as The
Eagle made in the UK between 1950 and 1969, it’s not surprising that this
form of Sci-fi still prevailed in Doctor
Who and other television into the 1970s, until Sci-fi in UK comics took a
different turn with the arrival of 2000
AD in 1977.

The best segment of The
Keys of Marinus though, is clearly the adventure in the city of Millenius,
where the Doctor returns to help his friends solve a murder mystery, and save
Ian, who has been framed for the crime, from execution by the state. In the mad
rush of reeling off production scripts, it’s great to see Terry Nation come up
with a more developed plot, and one that judging by how much more fluent and
fun it is, he clearly enjoyed writing. After the average first two episodes,
and the very mediocre episodes 3 and 4, it comes as a welcome breath of fresh
air to get a short story with considerably more meat to it. From the outset,
it’s clear that there is conspiracy and intrigue afoot, and pleasingly the
mystery is dealt with succinctly and to the point. The Doctor solves most of it
in just a couple of minutes, and a lot of the short story involves his struggle
to defend Ian in court. Although the Doctor uses some rather dubious methods to
unveil the murderer in court, he fails to provide enough proof to exonerate Ian
from his fate. I like how the downturn of events comes as a result of the
logical process of the trial, and given what the Doctor offers, it’s natural
and credible that Ian would still be charged. Despite this though, beyond the
Doctor’s initial efforts, the culprits of the crime are very easy to figure
out, either down to sloppiness in the script, or a deliberate leaning towards
theatrical villainy, that has to reveal itself to the audience and headline its
presence in events. Personally I feel it’s a bit of both. Later, some contrived
jeopardy occurs with Susan being kidnapped, in another display of increasingly
sigh-worthy pantomime villainy by one of the co-conspirators, although it does
give Barbara a welcome slice of the detective work for a short moment. However,
I do like how once again the other culprits are caught and convicted, through a
key piece of dialogue used earlier in episode 6. It sets the audience up for a
great little denouement, as the Doctor sets a trap for, and confronts, his
intended target; and the TARDIS team celebrate their high spirits and success
in a light-hearted conversation with their former accusers.

The overarching basic storyline that frames this serial
though is remarkably less satisfying. Despite the interesting ideas thrown up
by the first episode (glass beaches, acid seas, a machine that dictates the
conscience of the whole planet), it delivers very little overall. The Voords
are merely unthinking, unfeeling, one-dimensional villains, even more so than
any other villain in the rest of the story, and only seek out the conscience
machine for power and dominion alone. Since the machine has to be destroyed in
the end, the quest, and the story itself, almost all seems to be for nothing,
bar the safe return of Altos and Sabetha, and the defeat of the Voords. So
after five and half episodes, the story builds up to a non-existent climax and
delivers a flat ending, to an otherwise fairly active story.

Another casualty of Terry Nation’s underdeveloped, sometimes
rather basic script is much of the characterisation. Fortunately, most of the
regular characters come through unscathed with their integrity intact, but many
of the supporting characters leave a lot to be desired. As I mentioned above,
the Voords are really disappointing antagonists, one-dimensional characters
that rant on about their obsession with power. Then we have Darrius, in episode
three, a pathetic and dithering scientist, whose only presence is partly as
another obstacle for Ian and Barbara to overcome (the code behind the location
of the key), and to give the living jungle idea interesting scientific
reasoning – the meddling with nature’s “tempo of destruction”. Episodes 5 and
6, present us with a trio of theatrical and clumsily-scripted murderers and
conspirators, Aydan, Kala and Eyesen. Aydan is undoubtedly the worst of the
three, who cowardly lashes out violently in private, and very unnecessarily at
those that challenge him, in this particular case, his supposed wife, in a
rather uncomfortable moment. This controversy aside though, Aydan is still
poorly characterised by some quite terrible and unconvincing hammy dialogue,
where he ‘accidentally’ says too much and instantly gives himself away so
easily and unsubtly, again in the traditions of basic pantomime villainy. I
greatly dislike it, when otherwise great (or any other kind of) writers have to
resort to such lazy, stupid and contrived characterisation to get their points
across. In this case in particular, it robs the Millenius story of a great deal
of its intrigue and dramatic tension, and the maintained theatricality of the
accomplices merely compounds the problem. Kala by contrast is probably the most
interesting and entertaining of the three, and by far the most calculating,
(perhaps understandably) murdering her husband, faking grief and worry,
delivering barefaced lies with ease; although even she succumbs to theatrical
villainy, vocally delighting in and feeding off Susan’s plight and fear. Eyesen
on the other hand, is the cool and controlling manipulator, taking everything
in his stride, pulling the strings, advising his fellow accomplices and doesn’t
feel much emotion, if any whatsoever. Unfortunately, despite the great scene,
where he’s caught out by the Doctor at the end, Eyesen too is very undermined
through some bad theatrical dialogue, and betraying his importance in the
narrative by his utter contempt for Ian, and quite clearly posing as the
Doctor’s opponent in court, rather than merely being ambivalent like the
judges.

The worst of the story’s protagonists, by some quite
considerable margin, is the huntsman, Vasor, on whom nearly every ounce of
subtlety and believability is just thrown away. Considering though, that episode
four undoubtedly seems to be one of the scripts that took a quality control hit
due to the tight deadlines Terry Nation had to bear; it would be unfair of me
to completely blame him for all the scriptural flaws that occur, or expect high
quality scriptwriting at all come to that. However, the flaws still took place,
and Vasor is perhaps an example of some of the worst characterisation to enter
into the show so far. A cowardly, self-serving and mean-spirited huntsman,
Vasor is almost the very definition of a pantomime villain, explicitly and
overtly announcing to the audience in almost every other sentence reasons why
he’s the bad character of the piece. You can almost hear the ‘boos’ and hisses
in the gaps between his dialogue. Having said that though, Vasor starts off the
episode quite natural and calm, but after the first five minutes, it doesn’t take
him long before he gradually rises to a crescendo of theatricality. For
instance, I can’t think of any credible villains who openly reveal their
intentions so easily in comically bad dialogue like, “That door will keep
anything out...or in!” Then again, it’s equally possible that Vasor is meant to
be a hammy villain for fun; however as the rest of the episode is “performed”
and written to be straight drama, it seems unlikely. While the camp theatrics
can be laughed off though, the worst and perhaps rather uncomfortable aspect of
Vasor is the fact that initially he clearly intends to rape Barbara. While the inclusion
of such a serious issue could have worked if used sensitively and in a dramatic
context, as The Time Meddler did, its
casual use around a comically ridiculous and theatrical character feels crass
and inappropriate, leaving something of a bad taste in the mouth.

Fortunately the protagonist characters fare better during
The Keys of Marinus. Arbitan for
instance, is a cautious and intelligent man, who while clearly an amiable and
loving person, has an interesting subtle dark side to him. Arbitan’s desperation
to succeed and survive, has lead him to be rather calculating and manipulative.
Despite his shadowy machinations in the Temple though, he recognises the TARDIS
crew as innocents fairly quickly. Then there’s the question of the conscience
machine itself. Is Arbitan merely an authority figure upholding a planet-wide
state tyranny? The one-note villainy of the Voords suggests not, and yet by the
end of the story, Terry Nation seems to do a complete 180 degree reversal and
decides that the machine is an obstacle to civilisation, and best destroyed
after all. Due to the motive of the Voords (power) he just gets away with it,
but there is certainly a sense of sleight of hand going on, as well as an
underlying thought that maybe the quest for the keys was largely
inconsequential after all this time.

Sabetha and Altos though, are far less interesting.
They’re clearly kind and worthy people, quickly becoming friends with the Time
Travellers, but ultimately they’re there firstly to add dramatic weight, scale and
depth to the ongoing quest for the keys. The visual presences of Arbitan’s
former friends, lost in their own attempts to find them, mythologises the
adventures and challenges that await the TARDIS crew during their own attempt,
but they also act as dramatic warnings to what could happen to them if they
fail themselves. Later Terry Nation adopts Sabetha and Altos as two more pairs
of hands to help fulfil the basic action and investigation requirements.
However, this has the unfortunate result of actually displacing some of the
material for the regulars, which is made all the more unsatisfying by the fact
that Sabetha and Altos end up being mainly inferior stereotyped duplicates of
Susan and Ian. Nowhere is this more obvious than when Sabetha and Susan are
lost together in the ice caves during episode 4, saying exactly the same kind
of words, and expressing and feeling in very similar ways. Altos meanwhile
pretty much becomes the stock action stereotype after episode 2, but
fortunately Ian is saved the same indignities as Susan, by being taken out of
some of the action, thanks to him being framed for murder in Millenius,
allowing him to take advantage of different and slightly better material. In
fact, the added presence of Sabetha and Altos in the second half of the story
also helps Nation to pad out his script more easily, until he come up with more
meatier material. All these flaws combined make it a struggle to actually care
about Sabetha and Altos throughout most of The
Keys of Marinus. Seemingly recognising this, Terry Nation tries to contrive
a romance between the two of them in the last episode, but it’s far from
convincing.

Much of the best characterisation, perhaps predictably
goes to our regulars, particularly the Doctor and Barbara. Once more the Doctor
continues to evolve and develop before our eyes. In a marked change from
previously, he now takes great notice and care of the safety of his friends and
companions, and has more affection for them than ever before. Even when faced
with the prospect of investigating a fascinating new alien world or culture, it
doesn’t overrule his personal responsibility to them. It also says a lot about
how much the Doctor’s character has mellowed, that Barbara’s momentary
irascibility is now seemingly worse than his!

So just as the Doctor becomes mellowed and more
affectionate, so too do we, the viewer, warm towards him in return. The Keys of Marinus shows the first
hints of the ensemble dynamic of the regulars beginning to break down, as the
Doctor starts to occasionally take the lead of some of the story, and by
extension the TV show itself. It’s a beginning of a very gradual process that
doesn’t reach its conclusion until The
Time Meddler, when the Doctor himself finally develops to become THE lead
character of Doctor Who, and the
group ensemble lead ends. This change is also evident by the Doctor’s absence
during episodes three and four of The
Keys of Marinus, when the flow of the story becomes less urgent and starts
to meander, but it’s only when the Doctor returns, that we suddenly realise
what we’ve been missing all along – not just a decisive and meatier narrative,
but also a strong positive leading character to take control of it.
Furthermore, the Doctor’s resolutely bold, witty, charming and increasingly
warm and kind-hearted nature makes me feel (and I hope the audience too) very
fond of him as a character now, much more than previously (much helped by
Hartnell’s superb performance), when I was fascinated and thrilled experiencing
the Doctor as anti-hero, and gradually developing into a hero. I confess it wasn’t
until the Doctor returned after a sizeable absence in episodes three and four of
The Keys of Marinus that in
chronological terms, I started to feel and consciously root for this character,
as opposed to Ian and Barbara, and I suspect that will be the case for most
viewers too. Noticeably, the Doctor is becoming a bit more virtuous as well,
seemingly looking to do the right thing, not just for his friends, but also in
his respectful treatment and integration with Millenius’ society.

Another interesting point is that the Doctor only really
decides that the conscience machine, dictating the thoughts of man, is a bad
thing, during the final episode, after much consideration. It’s clear that the
Doctor’s own perspective on morality is still developing, even now, and still
moving even closer to the hero we know, as each story passes.

In contrast, while Barbara’s personality remainsthe same, her character is challenged by
difficult situations to become even braver and more daring, not just to merely
survive, but also to save her friends. The danger the history teacher
encounters may get progressively direr as her travels in time and space
continue, but no longer does she succumb to fear like in times past. Barbara’s
ordeal in Morphoton during episode two is a particular trial-by-fire for her,
as she finds herself alone and driven from the city into some dark and dirty
dwelling, while her friends are lost to her, and under the control of a
tyrannical power. If this wasn’t enough of a hopeless situation to overcome,
Barbara singlehandedly infiltrates into the centre of the city; destroys the
brain creatures and frees her friends from their brainwashing. No wonder
Barbara thought she had the strength of will to change the course of Earth
history in The Aztecs. Seriously,
Rambo has nothing on Barbara Wright. Sure, the schoolteacher may not be as
aggressive or gung-ho as Ripley from Alien
(1979) (or Rambo), but she’s just as courageous and gutsy, and as good a hero
as TV has ever devised. In fact given that The
Avengers’ heroines are more charismatic sidekicks than fully-developed
characters, Barbara is quite possibly one of the first multi-dimensional female
“action” hero characters ever produced for Television.

Ian on the other hand, is partly sidelined to the duties
of being a ‘male action stereotype’ for the first time in the show; he gets
some good material and dialogue in the last two episodes, but overall this is
the character’s weakest representation to date. There’s not a great deal to
talk about, as for this story, Ian is entirely cast in the role of as a
supporting character, mainly fulfilling some of the script’s action
requirements, and setting up some of its comic moments. Even when Ian is under
the sentence of death at Millenius, he still comes across as something of a
spare part. Ian eventually gets his moment in the last episode, when he quietly
(albeit easily) outwits Yartek with a fake copy of one of the Keys to the
Conscience machine. He also enjoys some wonderful exchanges with The Doctor in
the last two episodes.

For Susan though, The Keys of Marinus marks the beginning
of the inevitable decline in her character and sows the seeds for Carole Ann
Ford’s departure in the role at the end of The
Dalek Invasion of Earth. Susan may not have been the most fascinating,
complex, or exciting of the lead characters, but up until this point, was
always interesting and maintained multiple dimensions that made her convincing
and enjoyable to watch. However, as the other three lead characters continue to
grow and blossom out, not only does the ensemble lead threaten to break up, but
Susan is increasingly given less and less meaningful things to say and do as
time goes on. Furthermore being sidelined by the inclusion of Sabetha in the
continuing story, and left to be the screaming damsel-in-distress, almost acts
as a visual premonition of how ineffectual the character will eventually become
in subsequent adventures. Fortunately the next two serials (The Aztecs, The Sensorites) will offer
Susan a bit more to do, but as of The
Keys of Marinus, it’s clear that the character’s shelf-life has been
rapidly reduced, and is now continuing under borrowed time.

The quality of the
production seems to be just as mixed as that of the script, particularly the
direction by John Gorrie. He comes up with some great creative shots like in
episode 2 when he shoots from Barbara’s perspective to reveal the brainwashing
of the others, or Ian being framed in the foreground with the clock in the
background in episode 6 to emphasise the tension around his potential imminent
execution. However, there are equally plenty of dull and poorly staged shots
too, like the death of Arbitan in episode 1, for instance, or Aydan being
assassinated in court in episode 5, which are both so clunky it feels like
amateur theatre on a bad day. Then there’s the theatricality of the antagonist
characters, which are never reigned in at all (unless they’re accentuated by
the director, is even worse), however in Vasor’s case, camp theatricality is
probably the only way to make the character entertaining and enjoyable. Then
there are some other equally bizarre theatrical moments, seemingly interpreted
by the director. The most obvious one that comes to mind is during episode 5, when
the Doctor announces that the Millenius murderer while not being Ian, is
someone else present in the courtroom. The edit instantly cuts to the Senior
Judge, whose eyebrows hilariously leap several inches up his forehead in
reaction. Overall the direction feels decent and adequate, but also at times
fairly ineffective too. Norman Kay’s incidental music has a similar feel to it
too, with the exception that it is effective, but mostly lacks imagination,
identity and development, and is used so sparely to the point that it feels
music is mainly used just to score over the duller moments in the episodes, and
stop viewer interest from completely waning.

In contrast, designer Ray
Cusick uses every scrap of imagination and ingenuity at his disposal, having to
craft brand new sets, creatures and props for almost every episode, on an
extremely slim and stretched budget. In more recent interviews he may have
hated working on the serial (understandably so given how much pressure he was
put under, even more than Terry Nation), but his work here, clearly helps to
prop up the story, and making the most of a meagre budget to reflect Terry
Nation’s imaginative ideas very competently. One of my favourite images from
the story is the grand view of Arbitan’s temple, surrounded by a field of mini
shoulder-height pyramids of glass, reaching out from the ground, like trees in
a forest. Simply astounding!

Unfortunately, there’s not a
lot to say about the cast performances in The
Keys of Marinus, or at least the supporting cast anyway. There are a lot of
decent, but also fairly wooden performances throughout the story, by many of
the cast, very likely accentuated by the theatricality of the direction and
characters they have to play. While the serial is still enjoyable to watch, it
does make both the drama and characters in it fairly unconvincing, and appear
rather amateurish, so you never really take a lot of it seriously. Apart from
the regular cast, there are a few notable exceptions to this. Fiona Walker is a
renowned and exceptional actress, which is just as evident here, as Kala, in
one of her earlier roles, as it is in the parts that made her famous, such as
Agrippina in I, Claudius (1976). Despite
John Gorrie’s poor direction to Kala’s feigned reaction to Aydan’s
assassination, Walker imbues her character with a feistiness that adds an
instant life and energy to most of the scenes she stars in. Donald Pickering as
Eyesen, and George Coulouris as Arbitan, are two very reliable quality
character actors, who add a bit of welcome gravitas to everything they appear
in. Despite being hampered by the weak aspects of the characters they have to
play, they are never less than enjoyable to watch.

For the regular cast, The Keys of Marinus is an opportunity to
settle down in the roles they’ve grown to understand over the last four
productions, and finesse them before more interesting new directions for their
characters turn up. William Hartnell and Jacqueline Hill relish their turns
leading parts of the story, with Hartnell in particular evidently enjoying
himself, and getting his character performance down to an art form. With Ian
getting more of a backseat role, you’d think William Russell would get more of
a chance to take a break in proceedings, but instead finds himself performing a
lot of the main legwork the story requires with none of the character benefits.
Carole Ann Ford though gets the most thankless material, with Susan reduced to
singular dimensions. Ford does her best, but there’s only so much one can do
with a character that’s clearly going nowhere just yet.

However despite a lot of
apparent mediocrity in the script, characterisation and direction, The Keys of Marinus does create a
fascination innovation in both television and Doctor Who. Firstly, Terry Nation’s management of the ‘quest’
format of the story, along with having several different types of
adventures/sub-plots in very different locations (and genres), not only borrows
from similar styles of format from early radio, film and comic strips to produce
its first implementation on UK Television; but also Nation’s adaption of the
format, pre-echoes the kind of plotting that would become prevalent in both
videogames and gamebooks.

Secondly, the big range of
story types and subgenres that Terry Nation plays with throughout The Keys of Marinus is almost a
microcosm of what the early years of Doctor
Who and its whole franchise would eventually become: a TV programme that
would and could not be easily defined or boxed in by a couple of genres or
sub-genres, but one that almost magically danced with ease across every or any
genre that ever existed, where there’s a good story to be told. In other words,
a TV show, and eventually, multi-medium fictional work that would be an Omni-genre
show, if you like, or show which defied genre completely, and refused to belong
to one genre in particular. Arguably it’s from this point that the show as a
whole (and its production team) began to culturally understand what it wanted
to be, completely by accident through broad experimentation in the show’s very
first season. This particular unconscious realisation, coupled with the
important first steps and innovations of the previous four stories, and the
lesser one from the story to come (The
Aztecs) meant that at last the production team was able to understand
exactly what they were making, and could finally see what it could do, but
perhaps more importantly, where they wanted to go with it. Unknowingly, Terry
Nation had once again helped to provide an additional element to Doctor Who’s success, to show itself
that it could be, and was limitless, could go anywhere, and nearly do anything,
and that its imagination and potential was only bound by that of the writer
itself. It’s a great shame then that years later, a few subsequent future
production teams would go on to consciously narrow Doctor Who’s genre definition. However, that was all in Doctor Who’s future, and I’ll come back
to it when I reach the relevant periods. In 1964 though, Doctor Who was expanding and getting bigger, not smaller; going
from strength to strength.

Looking back at The Keys of Marinus specifically though,
it’s a fascinating curiosity. Born out of necessity, rushed, underdeveloped,
sometimes fairly padded and insubstantial, with mostly ineffectual and
theatrical characterisation and direction, Keys
is a serial that on the surface appears to be doomed to failure. Yet, within
this chaotic production lies some magnificent imaginative ideas and concepts,
even if they’re not wholly original, some magical performances from the regular
cast, especially William Hartnell, and a wonderfully mad range of small stories
and sub-genres, all thrown into the mix, and shows Doctor Who laying down its final foundations as a programme and
coming of age before it heads off to new, brighter and mostly better horizons.

Score:
7/10

P.S. At this point I have to hold my hands up and confess
that part of the conclusions I made in the third and second-last paragraphs of
the review are wholly inspired by the astute observations of TARDIS Eruditorum
aka Philip Sandifer on The Keys of
Marinus. I greatly recommend his writings, which are both very clever, and
very culturally knowledgeable, even if I sometimes disagree with his opinions
from time to time.

Title
Music – Ron Grainer, Delia Derbyshire and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop

Special
Sound – Brian Hodgson and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop

Incidental
Music – Tristram Cary

Make
Up – Ann Ferriggi

Production
Assistant – Douglas Camfield, Penny Joy

Studio
Sound – Jack Brummitt, Hugh Barker, Derek Miller Timmins

Story
Summary (SPOILERS!):

The TARDIS arrives on the Plain of Pamir on the outskirts
of the Himalayan mountain range in 1289, and promptly develops a significant
fault. In search of alternative shelter, the Doctor, Ian, Barbara and Susan are
rescued by Marco Polo’s travelling party. However, just when the Time
Travellers think they’re safe, dangerous plots embroil them in an adventure
they’ll never forget...

Marco Polo deceitfully steals the TARDIS, hoping to use
it as a gift to bribe his leader, the Mongol ruler, Kublai Khan to allow him to
return home back to Venice. The Doctor and his friends frequently attempt to
take the TARDIS back from Polo, but are thwarted at every turn. Unbeknownst to
all of them though is that the Mongol War Lord Tegana, whom Marco Polo is
escorting to a peace talk with Kublai Khan, has a murderous plot of his own.
Tegana is the representative of rival Mongol leader Nogai, who claims to want
to a peace settlement with Kublai Khan. In reality, Nogai wants another chance
to take over Kublai Khan’s large empire, using Tegana as a secret assassin.

The Time Travellers frustrate and thwart Tegana’s many
attempts to murder Marco Polo and his travelling party, and Tegana in turn
spreads lies and suspicion in the group, turning Polo against the Doctor and
his friends. However, once Tegana’s treachery is exposed and defeated, Marco
apologetically gives the TARDIS back to its original owners, allowing them to
leave and travel through space and time once more.

Story
Placement

Between The Edge of
Destruction (TV Serial) and The
Sorcerer’s Apprentice (Virgin Missing Adventure Novel)

Marco
Polo – “On my travels to Cathay, Ian, I have come to believe many things which I’d
previously doubted. For instance, when I was a boy in Venice, they told me that
in Cathay there was a stone which burned. I did not believe them, but there is
such a stone. I have seen it”.

Ian
– “It’s black isn’t it”.

Marco
Polo – “Yes”.

Ian
– “Coal”.

Marco
Polo – “In Cathay we call it the burning stone. And if a stone burns, why not a
caravan that flies? Birds fly. I have even seen fish that fly. You are asking
me to believe that your caravan can defy the passage of the Sun? Move not
merely from one place to another, but from today into tomorrow, today into
yesterday? No, Ian. That I cannot accept”.

Kublai
Khan (to Ping-Cho) – “Your
beloved husband-to-be, so anxious to be worthy of your love, drank a potion of
quicksilver and sulphur, the elixir of life and eternal youth, and expired on
the spot”.

Marco Polo – “I wonder where they
are now – the past or the future?”

Review:

It’s not easy trying to review a story that doesn’t
exist. On the one hand, you’re probably thinking that I’m being somewhat dumb
stating the obvious. After all, any visual records of the Marco Polo episodes in question have been wiped, destroyed or lost
sometime over the last 49 years (or at least that very much seems to be the
case so far). On the other hand, we have the original scripts, a novelisation
of the story produced years afterwards, but most importantly we have audio
recordings of the transmitted episodes, taken by a few devoted viewers of the
time; and more recently photographs taken by John Cura of individual frames of
most of the episodes, courtesy of the director of the serial itself, Waris
Hussein. Through these combined items, Doctor
Who fans and TV historians are fortunate to be able to gain at least a
partial sense of what the serial was like. We can examine and critique the
script and the narrative; we can understand some of the quality of performance,
post-production and direction via the audio, and get some glimpses as to the
visual direction, set design, costume, and cinematography.

However, partial
is the operative word, so unless (hopefully just until) the video images of this old TV production are recovered, if
they ever can be, then we can never truly be able to appreciate the quality of
the cast performances or direction, or even be able to appreciate Marco Polo in the way it was meant to be
experienced – the visual medium. So for a reviewer of any old TV programmes
that sadly no longer exist, even one that has substantial recovered scraps and
extras to help partially realise what once did, like Doctor Who; it’s hard to know for sure if one is ever doing
complete justice to its merits, and I’m sad to say that’s the case for many a
1960s Doctor Who serial, particularly
during the Patrick Troughton years. However, the metaphorical axe that came
down on these old TV episodes was indiscriminate and mostly random, so that
many of what I personally consider great Doctor
Who TV serials from both the First and Second Doctor eras, for now at least
seem to be lost forever, including the original master tapes of over half of
the Third Doctor era, which fortunately survives through several different
ways, recoveries and technological miracles over the last 40 years.

For the benefit of those that don’t know what I’m talking
about, here’s a quick summary about the problem of missing Doctor Who episodes. Before the commercial distribution and selling
of video cassettes (firstly Betamax, before VHS took over the home video market,
and of course a long, long time before DVDs), British TV companies frequently
wiped and destroyed all copies of their old programmes once their appeal for
broadcast was exhausted, as they thought they had no further use. The master
tapes were often the first to go after repeat possibilities dried up, and then
all the remaining copies once all their export copies had lost their viability
to be sold for TV transmission abroad, including sadly copies returned to them
from other countries from said past export sales. This practice was common
within the BBC till the early 1980s, partly down to the cost of using film (so
a film could be used to record other programmes) or limited storage facilities.
As a result of the wiping and junking of original and duplicate copies of old TV
material, several classic programmes produced up to that time were badly
affected by the purge including Steptoe
and Son, Dad’s Army, Z Cars, Monty Python, the BBC coverage of the 1969
Moon Landings, and of course Doctor Who.
Nearly all of the Doctor Who master
tapes between 1963 and 1974 were completely disposed of, as well as most of
even all the inferior export copies of the episodes between 1963 and 1969. We
are immensely fortunate that all of the Jon Pertwee era of Doctor Who (1970-1974) has been saved or preserved on video in some
form or another, with modern restoration techniques bringing even poor or black
and white copies of colour episodes much closer to their original state than
ever before for our enjoyment. All archive Doctor
Who from late 1974 onwards has thankfully been kept, in fairly close to its
original state. However, the 1960s period was, and still is fairly decimated in
comparison, heavily impacting on both of the William Hartnell (1963-1966) and
Patrick Troughton (1966-1969) eras of the show. Again, fortunately every decade
or so since the early 1980s, a very small number of export copies of old 1960s
episodes have come back from various sources (some old foreign TV
stations/archives, others from film collectors), allowing us to experience a
small part of previously lost TV history again, and to enjoy and appreciate the
Doctor Who stories they represent far
better. The more depressing fact though is that despite these lucky and
wonderful recoveries, there is still to this day 106 Doctor Who episodes completely lost (for now at least), most of
which being from 1965-1969, including some sizeable casualties in the Patrick
Troughton era especially. Marco Polo
represents the first chronological Doctor
Who story that has both episodes still missing, but is also still missing
in its entirety.

Marco
Polo
is a story of great significance and interest during the early years of Doctor Who, even without accounting for
its status as a missing serial. It marks the first story to be a fictional tale
both set within and written about real historical events, places or
civilisations. An Unearthly Child may
have been set in the past too, but this the first time when recorded history is
used as a basis for creating a fictional tale. This type of story first used in
Marco Polo also represents the
beginning of a reoccurring story format, these days more commonly referred to
as the “pure historical”, in the sense that these stories would only include a
fictional world and events set within recorded history, without any fantasy or
science fiction elements, with the obvious exception of the TARDIS, which in
these stories was merely a plot device to get them to the historical location
in the first place in order to begin the serial’s narrative. The true extent of
how many elements, events, facts, or people from recorded history were actually
included and used in each serial, varied from story to story; but there was
always due care to make sure there were no obvious mistakes in its depictions
according to the accepted history interpretations of the day. Of course, this
has made some stories that venture into history a bit dated as new ideas and
discoveries have changed the history books over the decades, but I don’t think
that de-values the quality of any past Doctor
Who production at all, as the show’s main remit was to be adventure,
entertainment and drama, after all.

A common assumption about the origins and early
development of Doctor Who as a TV
programme has always been that these “pure historical” stories were intended
purely on the grounds of education. In other words, entirely or specifically
for kids, which is another barely questioned assumption about the whole
programme in general, and one that I strongly disagree with. While that may
have been the early initial aim during the creation of Doctor Who, the final reality was very different. To illustrate this,
permit me to quote from my own University dissertation from 2011:

“During the early days of Doctor Who and its creation, the BBC and
Sydney Newman, its principal creator, clearly wanted the historical episodes of
the show to have “a distinctive educational slant” to its narratives (Graeme
Burk, 2000, 2010 p.37), particularly stating that he wanted Doctor Who to concentrate on producing
“drama based upon and stemming from factual material and scientific phenomena
and actual social history of past and future” (Sydney Newman, 1963 cited in
Howe, Walker and Stammers, 1994, 2005 p.61). Some commentators have leapt on
this fact as proof that Doctor Who
was specifically a show for children (Kim Newman, 2005 p.1), and is often used
to support a negative critique of Doctor
Who by those who dispute its merit. However, just as The Daleks (1963/4) serial railed against Sydney Newman’s
directives of having “no bug-eyed monsters” (Newman, 1963 cited in Howe, Walker
and Stammers, 2005 p.56), the historical serials became different to their
intended nature too, concentrating more on drama, than conveying facts. There
are educational elements to these serials, which include The Aztecs (1964) and The
Massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Eve (1966), but they are very minor in detail,
and only really serve as a framework to help dramatically ground the narrative
for the audience, acquaint them with the historical characters in question, or
even simply as further ‘window dressing’ to help give the drama an added
richness that some of it’s more specifically science fiction serials might have
found difficult to achieve. The BBC may have originally wanted the historical
serials to be purely educational, but with Doctor
Who being a drama, they conceded after complaints from schools after the Marco Polo (1964) serial that
historically educational drama serials “posed the danger of misrepresenting
historical events and characters and thus undermining the lessons given at
school” (Richard Bignell, 2009, p.11). As a result, the emphasis on education
in historical Doctor Who serials was
significantly reduced, even throughout the majority of the 1960s, so these
serials weren’t really as primarily aimed at children as suggested.”

So in other words, Doctor
Who’s ‘pure historical’ serials only used recorded historical events,
people and locations as a framework to create fictional works of drama or
comedy (or both) within, and to avoid any direct science fiction or fantasy
elements that would disrupt the added depth and potential realism the
historical framework lent them, and definitely not education in any real
significant sense, despite Sydney Newman’s original intentions.

However, Marco Polo
certainly gives the illusion of being educational, possibly hence the
complaints the BBC received after its original transmission. During about 10
minutes of the serial’s third episode, Five
Hundred Eyes, the plot is suspended to make way for a telling of a folk
tale by Ping Cho, and then Marco Polo that gives the impression to any
unknowing or unaware viewer that they’re receiving a partial insight into
Mongol or Chinese culture, when in fact it is nothing of the kind. Although the
story is very loosely based around Hulagu Khan’s siege of Alamut in 1256, it
contains little but reference to the event, no historical detail, just
embellishment and romanticism. In short the story is merely a lyrical fairy
tale, entirely, albeit very imaginatively, invented by John Lucarotti.

Actually, I don’t think the teachers of the day needed to
be that worried, because even after just a little research, it becomes
increasingly obvious that surprisingly for Doctor
Who’s first ‘pure historical’ adventure, there is hardly any real history
to be found in the script at all. By all accounts the siege of Alamut
referenced in episode three, and the destruction of Karakorum, the capital city
of the Mongol empire, described briefly in episode six are the only real
tangible bits of history we can be sure of. The presence of Kublai Khan is of
course correct for the time period the story is set, but his use in the story
is mainly as both a lightly comedic character and catalyst for both the plot
and its climax, rather than any recorded historically accurate interpretation.
Nogai (or Noghai), Tegana’s off-screen leader also existed, a Mongol Tatar
leader of the Golden Horde; but from what I can make out, Nogai never made any
recorded attempt to overthrow or even oppose Kublai Khan.

What of Marco Polo himself you ask? Well here’s the
fascinating thing. Although The Travels
of Marco Polo do tell of Marco Polo’s servitude and visits to Kublai Khan
(along with his family, who happen to also be absent from Doctor Who’s fictional depiction), and that he did leave Khan’s
court and service in 1290 AD (and leave Venice in 1271), a year after the Doctor Who narrative is set; once again
there is no actual recorded historical evidence of Marco Polo ever visiting
Kublai Khan, and that’s if he even went to China at all, which is odd
considering the recorded historical visits of other Europeans to Kublai Khan’s
court. In fact, because the only real details about Marco Polo and anything he
did seem to only exist in the famous book series of related tales, The Travels of Marco Polo, there is real
debate as to whether Marco Polo himself ever existed. Having said that though,
John Lucarotti writes a ready-made ‘get out clause’ at the very end of the
serial, allowing him freedom not to be tied down to historical fact with Marco
Polo’s statement that people back home wouldn’t believe in half the things he’s
seen in Cathay (Medieval North China).

So with that in mind, it’s fairly clear that John
Lucarotti script is almost entirely fictional in every way (including
unknowingly to Lucarotti maybe even Marco Polo himself), which perversely makes
Doctor Who’s Marco Polo all the greater, and feels all the more impressive and
special. Creating a good fictional narrative within the fixed constraints and
facts of recorded history is hugely difficult in itself, but the fictional
world set in 13th century Asia that Lucarotti creates is so
multi-dimensional, extensive and convincing, that it is a written wonder to
behold. So much so in fact, that if I hadn’t done any research, I would’ve been
convinced that a quarter of the script did reflect true recorded history. The
level of detail and thought in both his imagining and descriptions of the
locations that Marco Polo travels to, as well as the myriad of different characters
really sells this story as both a historical epic, and a wonderfully romantic
vision of the eastern World, even if it is almost certainly false. However, it
also probably helps that Lucarotti is drawing much inspiration from the
potentially fictitious Travels of Marco
Polo as well. The character of Tegana himself is a decent example of this,
seemingly inspired by the character of Ahmad, a murderer and perpetrator of
evil, who bewitched those around him, particularly those in authority.

Another fascinating aspect of Marco Polo’s narrative is that Marco Polo is himself the focus of a
high portion of the story, rather than the Time Travellers. Marco himself
narrates their group’s journey across Asia non-diegetically, but at the same
time the scenes that share the narration wonderfully show Polo writing about
his journey in a diary, a homage to the books of The Travels of Marco Polo no doubt (even though their contents may
be fictional, and were claimed to be made from another person’s accounts of
Polo’s travels as relayed to him by word of mouth, not written text). During
the narration, there’s also (according to telesnaps) an edited film montage of
the straight forward and less dramatic parts of the journey so fortunately the
audience doesn’t even have to suffer it in a quarter of real time (although
it’s definitely long enough as it is!). It also feels that some of the
portrayal of the Doctor and his companions in the script represents Marco’s own
interpretation of them, particularly noticeable in the last part of the final
episode as he wonders where the TARDIS crew’s travels will take them. Although
of course, an equal portion of the script is free from his view of events to
allow the audience to see the whole story and the many sides of it that take place.

Taken from purely a plot point of view though, it’s hard
to get around the fact that Marco Polo
is a fairly simple story. There are two basic, good plots, which combine
together in the final episode for a joint resolution. Firstly, our time
travellers meet Marco Polo, who steals the TARDIS as a gift for Kublai Khan,
and our heroes struggle to get it back again. Marco Polo marks the first time the TARDIS has been stolen, whether
for its power, technological abilities or just as a hold over the Doctor, and
here it works wonderfully within the historical context. Marco Polo sees it as
a magical item he can gift to the Khan in return for leave from his service,
allowing him to go back home to Venice. In fact it’s surprising that as a plot
device, the theft of the TARDIS hasn’t been used more often. The other and
rather obvious subplot, Tegana’s conspiracy to murder the Khan in the name of a
takeover by his Mongol leader Nogai, is well written too. To Tegana, Marco Polo
is both the means by which he travels to meet the Khan under false pretences,
and also one of Kublai Khan’s lines of defence, to be confounded and disposed
of at the most convenient opportunity. Although it is always obvious to the
audience of Tegana’s villainy, it is fascinating to see how he manages to
always worm his way out of trouble and get back into Marco Polo’s favour, not
to mention drive a wedge between him and the Time Travellers without being
found out by the Venetian. The only thing that does spoil it perhaps is the
fact that Lucarotti casually reveals Tegana from the very first episode, and
clearly signposts this as early as ten minutes into the serial, wasting the
potential for any mystery or additional suspense. In itself, these are great
plotlines for a four episode, 100 minute story, but at a mighty seven episodes,
I think it’s fair to say there is a sizeable amount of padding in this serial.
Amazingly though, Lucarotti somehow manages to turn this into as much of a
strength as a flaw.

John Lucarotti has carefully structured the narrative to
follow a much gentler pace than usual, so that every episode has elements of
sizeable significance to the overall plot. There are still big chunks of filler
material of course, but it is mostly fairly spread out, not lumped into two
whole episodes, so it doesn’t spoil the overall ‘viewing’ experience (if I can
call watching a picture slideshow-style recon viewing that is). Even in the
periods that the plot is on hold though, Lucarotti inserts interesting details
and additional elements to stop the audience from getting too bored, such as
the ‘singing’ sands of the Gobi desert, and the titular ‘Cave of Five Hundred
Eyes’. One of the other positives from Lucarotti’s re-structured narrative is
that you get a real sense of how big Marco Polo’s journey is, as well as the
sheer distances and long number of days and weeks that are being undertaken in
achieving it, something that you wouldn’t really appreciate as much if it was
edited down to under an hour of screen time. Due to the padding, there is also
some repetition of plot elements, with the time travellers repeatedly trying
escape in the TARDIS, and Tegana’s various attempts to kill Marco Polo and
thwart his journey progress towards Cathay. However, every attempt, and every
escape takes place in different circumstances, so although on paper, it’s
obvious they’re repeating the same plot function over and over, in practice it
feels like a natural part of the story. In fact, every attempt by the Doctor
and friends to regain the TARDIS, by being caught out and trying again feels
like a more believable development than the usual quick fix, as in reality
various obstacles often exist to any desired aim. Furthermore it also adds an
extra layer of tension, as well as an increasing sense of desperation from the
time travellers as the possibility of them becoming stranded in this time grows
ever more likely.

The best strength from having the extended narrative is
that the extra time allows John Lucarotti to extensively develop the main
characters of the story, working in extra layers and subtleties, but most
brilliantly creates and changes the relationships between them as time goes on,
and as plot points make them react in different ways. Nowhere is this more
noticeable than with Marco Polo and his ongoing friendship with the time
travellers, and Ian in particular. At the start, they are innocent people lost
in the mountains which he feels duty bound to care for. Later, they warm to
each other and become friends. However, when Tegana stirs up their differences,
as well as making trouble, and the Doctor and his companions try to escape with
his prize, again and again, Marco becomes initially angry, but later rather
more distant, weary and untrusting of them, until the climax of the story when
the penny drops, and he tries to make up for his behaviour to them, by giving
them back the TARDIS. Complex changes and developments in characterisation is
as much a part of great storytelling as a good narrative and plot, and during Marco Polo, John Lucarotti produces it
in spades.

Speaking of characterisation, John Lucarotti’s script
delivers many wonderfully multi-layered and relatively complex characters that
help set this adventure story alight and raise it above what could potentially
have been a fairly average historical tale of globetrotting and pantomime
villainy to a near classic Doctor Who
serial. The most notable and fascinating of these is undoubtedly the title
character himself – Marco Polo. Marco is one of the most complex supporting
characters ever written for the Doctor
Who television series (although probably not the books and audios). Clearly
a seasoned traveller with his wits about him, the Venetian is clearly not above
acting out of self-interest when his own need is strong enough. However, he
also has a clear and strong conscience, and likes to think the best of others
where possible, something which Tegana only too gladly manipulates for his own
ends. However, having an open and kind heart, despite his own selfishness, means
that he is easily upset and angered when others insult or deceive him, and
especially when others seem to betray him, which make up a lot of the dramatic
conflicts between the main characters throughout the story. I also love the
warm camaraderie that builds up between Marco and Ian, as the Venetian begins
to greatly respect and trust the resourceful time traveller, only for his faith
in Ian to be broken down by Tegana’s lies and Ian’s attempts to defy him in
trying to escape with the TARDIS. Rarely do the audience get to see detailed
and fully developed interaction between the regulars and the other main
characters so it rightfully feels special and worthy to not only see it happen,
but also for it to be so brilliantly thought-out and executed in the final
production.

The Time Travellers themselves are also still of great
interest as a developing ensemble in Marco
Polo, particularly as the story marks the first real adventure they share
as friends. The Doctor is the most notably changed, looking out for his human
companions, and doing his best for them when they’re in trouble, like Barbara
was in the third and fourth episodes. The development is remarkable and just
two stories ago would be unthinkable considering his old ways, proving to be a
great testament to his more humble and learned character, making good on his
promise to Barbara to be a better and fairer person at the end of The Edge of Destruction. However, it’s
equally fascinating that the Doctor continues to be almost just as abrasive and
unforgiving with strangers as before. When Marco Polo steals the TARDIS, the
Doctor rails against him, almost treating him like an enemy, secretly working
against him to take the TARDIS back, and resenting the Venetian’s actions
against him. However, it’s clear that over the long journey, and by the end of
their time together, he too has a grown to have respect for Marco, like his
friends, albeit only partially.

Barbara also clearly develops further in this story too.
After having cleared the air and made peace with the Doctor during The Edge of Destruction, it’s
interesting that now the history teacher is a lot more understanding and
sympathetic of the Doctor’s point of view. Her ongoing travels in the TARDIS
are also making Barbara a lot braver than ever before, and possibly more
reckless and instinctive too, letting her curiosity and suspicion of Tegana
lead her to unconsciously wander into danger. Barbara’s courage and steely will
though doesn’t stop her from still being appalled and terrified by the high
level of danger that she comes across during her travels through time and
space. Ian on the other hand remains as the dynamic and physically active
member of the TARDIS crew, once again partially fulfilling the action hero stereotype
his role was originally created for. However, once again Ian is thankfully
given more developed and complex characterisation, probably again partly down
to David Whitaker. He spends part of the story as an ambassador and
representative for the TARDIS team to Marco Polo, convincing him of their
innocent intent as well as their essential need of the TARDIS itself, hoping to
reason and convince him to give it back to them. Ian also though spends part of
the story befriending and supporting Polo, not just to help convince him of the
time traveller’s good intentions, but also to understand the Venetian himself,
trying to follow the best and most reasonable course of action that will help
them all out amicably, without the need for aggressive opposition. Once he is
sure of Tegana’s treachery later in the story, Ian grows a partially loyalty
toward Marco, determined to do right by him, even if he is duty bound to care
for his friends and look out for the TARDIS first. Susan on the other hand is
partly something of a spare part, developing a warm friendship with Ping-Cho,
but otherwise purely an observer throughout the story, with her only active
involvement being falling into the typical screaming ‘damsel-in-distress’
cliché that her character is quickly devolving towards. However, the Doctor’s
granddaughter isn’t completely wasted here and has some good scenes,
particularly with Ping-Cho, and is used by the script as partially representing
the attitudes of the ‘modern viewer’, protesting strongly against Ping-Cho’s
arranged marriage.

Tegana is something of an interesting character. John
Lucarotti unfortunately highlights his role as the villain very early on in the
story, but even if he hadn’t, it’s obvious that the Mongol warlord is cast as
the villain anyway with his regular verbal opposition to the time travellers,
spoken mainly only in Marco’s ear, clearly creating tension within the group.
If that wasn’t enough, his secret meetings, frequent acts of sabotage and
treachery, make Tegana initially look like the Doctor Who equivalent of Dick Dastardly. However, Lucarotti
fortunately takes care to make sure that the character never makes ‘public’
displays of his villainy (to the other main characters onscreen) until the
final climax, hiding his true intent and contempt behind jibes, barbed
suggestions and teasing. Tegana’s most effective weapon though, is his precise,
calculating and agile ability to charm others into his way of thinking. There’s
a great chilling moment in the final episode when Tegana manages to coldly
dress down Marco Polo just by openly criticising his actions to the Kublai
Khan, while at the same time bending the Khan’s ear with sweet words, with the
Venetian barely a few feet away from them and able to hear every word. It’s a
cold demonstration and insult by Tegana to Marco Polo, showing him the power
and control he has, even in a royal court he has never stepped foot in before,
without openly declaring his obvious opposition to the Venetian, preventing him
from arguing back. Rarely do we encounter human villains as well drawn and
scripted as this in Doctor Who, so
when they do appear they always stand out (like Mavic Chen, Tobias Vaughn,
General Carrington and Charles Grover, to name a few).

The other supporting characters are a lot more sleight or
generic in nature. Ping-Cho is more-or-less Marco Polo’s equivalent of Susan,
albeit infinitely more likeable, and without the tiresome screaming. A young
woman in Marco’s charge, Ping-Cho is quietly brave, fairly intelligent and
perceptive, but also a very sweet, delightful and kind-hearted person, who the
Time Travellers befriend fairly quickly with ease. Kublai Khan on the other
hand is more of a token comedy character, a cheeky, witty, but wise leader,
whose years have made him positively ancient in demeanour, but who is also
rather downtrodden by his significantly younger wife. Tegana also has various
secret allies to his cause, either through money or politics, but they all
amount to being merely sinister lackeys at the end of the day, plot devices to
help reveal a part of Tegana’s plan and intention at the right time in the
serial to keep the audience interested in proceedings.

Marco
Polo
also blesses us with a wonderful cast, nearly all of which are memorable in
some way or another. The strongest of the supporting cast though, is
undoubtedly Derren Nesbitt as Tegana. Nesbitt took what could so easily have
been a tea time pantomime villain, and turned him into a charming and
mesmerising portrayal that even now defies simple labelling, an enemy who hides
his true self under layers of language, misdirection and wry smiles. Derren Nesbitt tones back some of the character’s
excesses on paper, introducing some welcome subtlety, which treats the
audience to a convincing wolf in sheep’s clothing. However, Nesbitt makes sure
to include moments which offer glimpses of the deadly lion underneath, just to
remind us how deadly dangerous Tegana really is. Mark Eden is also superb as
Marco Polo himself, portraying the role with stern conviction and authority.
Eden also proves a great acting foil to Nesbitt, William Russell and William
Hartnell too. Zienia Merton, future Space:
1999 cast regular also gives a delightful performance as Ping-Cho,
conveying natural innocence and subtle intelligence with ease.

The regular cast are still on fine form too, especially
William Hartnell, who goes through a myriad of expressions; from anger,
frustration and his usual steely resolve through to cracking light jokes and
enjoying winning at backgammon. Hartnell’s best scenes are usually those where
the Doctor verbally faces off with Marco Polo, however for me his best moments
in the serial are his bizarre reaction to the sheer helplessness of losing the
TARDIS, firstly to Marco Polo, and then to Kublai Khan after losing a second
game of backgammon. Instead of anger, despair or bitterness, he falls about
laughing hysterically in the face of such hopelessness. It’s one of the facets
of William Hartnell’s portrayal of the Doctor that I’ve always loved, his
jolly, endearingly mad, and sheer bonkers eccentricity that comes completely
from left field like a sudden force of nature. I’m happy to say that you can
see a lot more of this glorious side of Hartnell’s performance during Season 2
(1964-5), when the 1st Doctor settles into his more mellow and good-humoured
persona, particularly while Vicki’s part of the TARDIS. However, that’s all
still in the future where Marco Polo
is concerned. William Russell gets the most to do of the regulars, playing off
Mark Eden’s Polo, stage fighting against various enemies, playing the voice of
the group with wit and conviction. Jacqueline Hill on the other hand, like
Carole Ann Ford is mostly restricted to supporting duties by their respective
characters taking a step back in this serial, which mostly leaves the two
actors reacting with either terror or wonder at the various situations that
occur, however Hill continues to brilliantly play Barbara’s understated and
instinctive wisdom.

The actual production of Marco Polo, from what the publicity photos and various telesnaps
show us, seems to have been rather elaborate too. The costumes and set design
appear to be particularly gorgeous, rich in tone and variety (and colour too
from some of the production photos). Tristram Cary’s music isn’t quite as
memorable or creative as the one he composed for The Daleks, however it is still nonetheless very effective, and
rather more understated to contrast with the rather more ‘loud’ aspects of
production. The direction though is very hard to evaluate with any kind of
certainty, due to the entire video record of Marco Polo being lost/destroyed. However, having directed the first
ever Doctor Who story, An Unearthly Child, very well for the
type of camera in use at the time, it’s possible that Marco Polo was too, something which the image composition and
framing displayed in the surviving telesnaps seem to bear out. The superb
performances of the cast also seem to suggest great direction. Despite this
though, short of any episodes of Marco
Polo being recovered, we will never know just how good Waris Hussein was during Marco Polo, except the surviving original cast and crew themselves.

Throughout all my praise and critique though, it’s worth
remembering that I’m only experiencing Marco
Polo through a surviving audio soundtrack (released by the BBC), and a
video reconstruction by the Doctor Who
fan video group, Loose Cannon productions, which plays out more as a picture
slideshow. Having said that though, Loose Cannon’s efforts should be applauded,
and their recent version still remains the most complete surviving record of
the serial so far, even though when I say ‘complete’ I mean as complete as
reasonably possible considering how little visual material has survived thus
far. It should be noted though, that trying to watch the sheer length of Marco Polo in this viewing format is
very difficult, if tried in less than two days. I myself only managed to digest
the video recon in three days, whereas I remembering managing to get through
all seven episodes as a narrated audio all in one sitting. That doesn’t mean
that one shouldn’t at least try the video reconstructions of missing Doctor Who, just that you shouldn’t
expect to be able to watch or appreciate it in the same way as video of the
‘moving image’. So maybe you might prefer to just stick with only the audio
soundtrack instead.

BBC DVD’s 30-minute reconstruction of Marco Polo on their 2006 DVD release of The Edge of Destruction is also worth
mentioning too. While it gives you the general gist of the story, and allows
viewers with considerably less stamina to experience it, BBC DVD’s recon only really
gives you a portion of the real story, and therefore only a portion of any
understanding as to how good it is. Certainly, Marco Polo as a script contains a fair amount of padding, as I’ve
already said earlier, but in my view, I can’t see Polo being edited down into less than 90 minutes, without losing
some of the aspects that make it into the classic it is, and BBC DVD’s recon
proves that. “How”, I hear you ask. Well you lose so many of the great moments
of character from both the regulars and the supporting cast, and the developing
and ever-changing relationship between them, and especially some of their
depth, particularly from Tegana. You also miss out on some of the wonderful
cast performances, particularly from William Hartnell and Derren Nesbitt.
Furthermore, you also miss out on the epic sense of the globetrotting journey;
some of the twists and turns in Tegana’s conspiracy; and some of the story and
directorial focus from Marco Polo’s point of view. In short, some of the
editing is so ruthless and clinically fast that several layers of creative
artistic meaning and endeavour just disappear. In other words, if you want to
find the easiest way of experiencing all of the best of Marco Polo, then I would recommend the BBC-released narrated audio soundtrack
(as of 2013).

For the last four decades at least, Marco Polo has teased and tantalised us with its absence from the
archives. A historical epic on a BBC budget, Marco Polo was a hugely ambitious production for television at the
time, rich with great characters, locations and culture aplenty, and blessed
with a strong script, cast and (probably) direction that truly delivered on
multiple levels. Marco Polo is also
significantly the first of a new type of Doctor
Who story format that mainly created a script from historical or period
elements, and deliberately avoided science-fiction and fantasy (despite the
subject here potentially being fictitious). The ‘pure historical’ as it has
later become known, is a fantastic story format, and great part of Doctor Who’s genre ensemble that
although temporarily abandoned by the TV show itself, was brilliantly updated
and resurrected by Big Finish audios in The
Marian Conspiracy, and is one that is long overdue from our screens. Marco Polo though, already shows us some
of the strengths of the genre, and represents the fourth in four serials to
pioneer fantastic developments that shape the success and future of Doctor Who for years to come. Although
admittedly a simple story, with padding built into the script (extending the
serial to a huge seven episodes long); from the surviving audio, script and
photographs, it’s clear to me at least, that Marco Polo is one of Doctor
Who’s all-time classic stories (albeit a lesser one). Furthermore, I’m
willing to bet that if ever some episodes from Marco Polo do happen to be recovered one day that many more would
agree too.